Darkness Becomes Me
by AleyaContraire
Summary: They say love saves. They say it pulls you out of the sea of madness and brings you back to sanity. But for Peter Pan, it's the complete opposite. He was a cold and cruel ruler but with Wendy Darling he was raw and violent; he was savage. The boy-king would've burnt his island to the ground if it meant owning her completely – heart, body and soul. Drabble-ish. ONESHOT.


**Darkness Becomes Me**

***A/N: I was bored. Then plot bunnies tugged at my brain. Just a little warning. This is a bit dark than the stuff I usually write but it's not _dark _dark. If you get what I mean. It's a bit one-sided. And more of a drabble. Hope you leave a review. They mean so much :))**

**DISCLAIMER: OUAT ain't mine***

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They say love saves. They say it pulls you out of the sea of madness and brings you back to sanity. But for Peter Pan, it's the complete opposite. Love pulls him deeper into that abyss. It didn't douse the inferno in his being but poured more fuel until his very soul was consumed by the flames. It didn't come in stars – pinpricks of light that pierce through the consuming darkness. It surged like a supernova, scorching and blinding. But the most frustrating thing was it came in the form of a Wendy Darling – a small, petty, mortal _girl_ with a heart of diamond; pristine and pure as it was hard and unyielding.

She was a whole arsenal wrapped in frilly white lace and shiny golden curls. Her soft smiles cut like glass, her kind eyes burned like fire. But it was her touch – soft, gentle, and fleeting that really upended him. It was venom, seeping into his skin, poisoning his veins, and corrupting his heart – chasing away the small patches of humanity that was left. He blamed her for his loss of control and sense, for turning a stealthy, cunning predator into a wild, impulsive beast. He would be lying though, if he said that he didn't like the thrill she gave him. It was intoxicating and addictive and he craved for it more and more with each moment of contact. But it destroyed him as much as it stimulated him.

So he sent her away, not because the girl weakened him but because she turned his own demons against him, so that his own monstrosity snarled at his face instead of doing his bidding. He was a cold and cruel ruler but with her he was raw and violent; he was _savage_. The boy-king would've burnt his island to the ground if it meant owning her completely – heart, body and soul.

His love was fierce, powerful, and utterly selfish. He would've chained her to the throne he built for her, would've made her his queen. Ironically, sending her away was the hardest thing he had to do, for he wanted nothing more than devour her, cage her, claim her as his. But he succeeded, as he always did.

When Wendy Darling landed in Neverland for the second time, Peter Pan didn't see a petty, human girl. He saw a grown-up, a _lady_. Her physical appearance hadn't changed much, but her eyes were wiser, her spine, straighter. She had forged steel into her frame, sharpened her tongue into a razor.

Hot, liquid fire flooded his veins once more at the sight of her. _Queen_, he thought, _She looked like a queen_. And at that instant, he didn't care anymore. He let the darkness consume him, gave in to the savage passion brewing in the corrupted organ in his chest. He grabbed her, and though she struggled with a force that surprised even him, it was futile. His slender arm slithered through her waist, trapping her against his body in a suffocating grip. His free hand weaved itself through her tresses, tugging it so that he had a clear view of her porcelain face. Her expression was defiant, her lips contorting into a hiss. But before she say anything, he had planted his hard mouth against her own.

There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was brutal and greedy. Peter kissed her like he was a dying man and she was life itself. _Mine_, he thought, biting Wendy's lip. He could feel her fists thumping his chest and her body squirming against his iron hold. But he was far too deep in the darkness for anything to register on his mind. He had abandoned all thought, all sense, all he could think was _Wendy, Wendy, Wendy._ He was overwhelmed by her – her scent, the smoothness of her hair, the feel of her lips. She had rekindled the fire in him that was stamped out when she left. The heat poured out of him in waves.

He let his love consume him, merged himself completely with the dark desire in his veins. He felt her giving in too. She had quitted struggling, letting her arms fall limp on her sides. He ravaged her mouth, stole her determination and resolve.

The king was falling, falling into that abyss of madness, and dragging his queen with him.


End file.
